Perspectives
by Saraswathi
~*~
Disclaimer: En mis suenos.
~*~
"But the her strongest weapon is definately the glaive," Raoul insisted, sipping his juice.
"How is she with the sword?" Alanna asked with interest.
Wyldon's lips curled into a smirk. "Worried about competition, milady?"
The Lioness treated the other knight to a cold stare, ignoring Raoul's ill concealed grin. "Not at all. I was simply thinking about fencing against her."
Her friend abandoned all hope of hiding his smile. That, he thought, would truly be the match of a century.
The conversation paused as drinks were served. Alanna sipped her wine. "Well, enough about her as a warrior. What about her as a woman?"
Her two companions handed her blank stares. Alanna realized that this might not be the choice company to discuss such a question with, but forged on nonetheless. "Who is she with?" she asked, words blunter than an unsharpened knife.
Wyldon threw her an annoyed look."That's just like a woman," the training master snapped. "Wanting to know about relationships instead of training."
The angry retort was stopped by Raoul's hand on hers. "I have asked about her training, Wyldon," the lady knight pointed out, forcing herself to speak calmly.
"Actually, it's a valid question," Raoul observed thoughtfully, cutting off Wyldon's reply, for his own sake. "Seeing as there seem to be so many different possibilities."
"So, who?" Alanna repeated, impatiently. Wyldon cocked an eyebrow, interested in spite of himself.
The Knight Commander leaned back comfortably in his chair. "Well, while she was my squire, she was seeing that fellow . . . What's his name? Kennan?"
Surprise broke through Wyldon composed facade. "Cleon of Kennan?"
"Yes, that's right," Raoul replied, clearly enjoying the former training master's surprise.
"Great Mithros," Wyldon murmured. "And all this time, I thought she'd end up with Queenscove."
"Queenscove?" It was Alanna's turn to be surprised.
Wyldon rolled his eyes. "Yes, Queencove. I believe he was your squire?"
"I know who Queenscove is, Wyldon," Alanna replied, the words sounding like Scanran because they emerged through her gritted teeth. "I was merely expressing surprise."
"But why?" Raoul asked. "He was her page-sponsor and her best friend, after all."
"Yes, but he's become infatuated with that Yamani lady, Yukimi," the lady knight explained.
"So it is Kennan after all," Wyldon observed. "I certainly did not forsee that."
"Excuse me, my lord, but you're wrong," a new voice interrupted.
Wyldon blinked down at his squire. "You said something, Jesslaw?" he inquired, his voice colder than the Copper Isles in January.
The squire's normally ruddy cheeks were pale, but he bravely held his ground. "Yes, sir."
"I don't recall asking for your opinion, squire," Wyldon snapped.
"Let the boy speak, Wyldon," Raoul protested, curiousity filling his dark eyes.
"Yes, Wyldon, simply because you're embarrassed to be caught gossipping . . ." the Lioness added.
Wyldon glared at both of them impartially. "Very well, then. If you will encourage my squire in bad habits, Goldenlake, I can do nothing."
Alanna rolled her eyes, while Raoul leaned towards Owen in a conspiratorial whisper. "He just won't admit that he wants to know as well."
Own nodded, unsuccessfully trying to hide his own grin. "Yes, sir, I know," he replied.
"Excuse me, Goldenlake, but I am not interested!" Wyldon sounded outraged.
Lady Alanna stood up, mischief dancing in her amythest eyes. "Very well, then. Raoul, Owen, follow me."
Wyldon frowned. "Where exactly are you going?"
"Well, as you claim no interest, we wouldn't want to bore you to death," the lady knight said sweetly. "We'll just go outside then."
"That's quite all right, Lady Alanna," Wyldon informed her. "Anything my squire has to say can be said in front of me."
The lady knight stared at him for a moment, then grinned. "Goddess, Wyldon, you're impossible."
Wyldon's lips twitched. "I try. Jesslaw?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Well?"
Owen was completely straight faced. "Well what, sir?"
The squire and knight master engaged in a staring contest. After several minutes, Alanna grew tired of waiting. "Wyldon, you blinked!" she called out.
The Lord of Cavall turned indignantly to her. "I did not-" he began, before he realized that Alanna had tricked him. Abandoning his stone facade, he swore softly.
The three adults waited impatiently as Owen conducted a victory dance. "Jesslaw . . ." his knight-master warned.
"Dom," Owen replied cheerfully.
Wyldon blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, wondering if the word was a new type of slang.
"Dom," Owen repeated, looking annoyed.
Raoul leaned forward, in some confusion. "Excuse me, Squire Owen, but I could have sworn you said 'Dom'."
"That would be because I did, milord," Owen drawled.
"Jesslaw!" Wyldon snapped. "You will give a proper amount of respect to my guests, please."
"Oh, are we your guests, Wyldon?" Alanna asked in interest. "Does that mean you're paying for this meal?"
Raoul paid no attention as his two companions began to bicker over the bill. "Owen, do you mean Domitan of Masbolle?"
"Yes, a sergeant in the Third Company of the King's Own," the squire recited. When Raoul raised his eyebrows, Owen explained, "Kel talks about him a lot."
Raoul leant back, satisfied. "I see. But what makes you think she . . ." he trailed off, unsure how to phrase his question.
Owen answered it for him. "Whenever anyone says his name, she acts like one of my sisters." His childish disgust of the last word was evident in his voice.
"I see," Raoul grinned.
"What's all this, Raoul?" Wyldon interrupted, ignoring Alanna. "Who is this 'Dom'?"
The Lioness' interest was captured. "Raoul, do you mean Domitan of Masbolle?"
"Yes. How do you know of him?"
"He was the cousin of my squire," Alanna pointed out. "I met him a few times. Rather good looking, isn't he?"
Raoul coughed. "You'd be a better judge of that than me, Lioness," he demurred. The lady knight grinned.
Annoyance overflowed from Lord Wyldon's bearing. "Would someone please inform me who in Mithros' name this Dom is?" he demanded, clearly enough to be heard in Scanra.
Alanna smiled sweetly. "But I thought you weren't interested, Cavall."
As Wyldon seemed likely to explode, Owen took pity on his knight master, more to save his squiredom than anything else. But the normally talkative Owen failed at attempting to describe someone whom he barely knew. "Um, he's . . . he's . . . he's right there!"
"Well, speak of the devil," Raoul murmured. They stared in surprise at a tall, dark haired- and extremely handsome- man approaching them.
He quirked an eyebrow at the stares he was receiving. "Is anything wrong with them, milord?" He asked Lord Raoul. "Or are they merely struck dumb by my good looks and obvious wit and charm?"
"I'd say the latter, Dom," the Knight Commander smiled.
Dom grinned. "I came to tell you that you've been summoned by Commander Buriram. I don't think you want to keep her waiting."
"Mithros, no!" Raoul sighed. "Well, thank you for dinner, Cavall. It's been an unexpected pleasure." Wyldon looked unsure whether to be pleased or insulted.
Alanna rose with him, still studying Dom critically, as if trying to determine whether he was good enough for her successor. Apparently satisfied, she nodded. "I'd better go as well. George will be waiting."
Owen stared after the two knights, wondering at their hurry to leave. He understood, however, after his knight master swore deeply.
"What is it, milord?" he asked.
His normally calm knight master was furious. "They left me the bill!"
~*~
El Fin
~*~
by Saraswathi
~*~
Disclaimer: En mis suenos.
~*~
"But the her strongest weapon is definately the glaive," Raoul insisted, sipping his juice.
"How is she with the sword?" Alanna asked with interest.
Wyldon's lips curled into a smirk. "Worried about competition, milady?"
The Lioness treated the other knight to a cold stare, ignoring Raoul's ill concealed grin. "Not at all. I was simply thinking about fencing against her."
Her friend abandoned all hope of hiding his smile. That, he thought, would truly be the match of a century.
The conversation paused as drinks were served. Alanna sipped her wine. "Well, enough about her as a warrior. What about her as a woman?"
Her two companions handed her blank stares. Alanna realized that this might not be the choice company to discuss such a question with, but forged on nonetheless. "Who is she with?" she asked, words blunter than an unsharpened knife.
Wyldon threw her an annoyed look."That's just like a woman," the training master snapped. "Wanting to know about relationships instead of training."
The angry retort was stopped by Raoul's hand on hers. "I have asked about her training, Wyldon," the lady knight pointed out, forcing herself to speak calmly.
"Actually, it's a valid question," Raoul observed thoughtfully, cutting off Wyldon's reply, for his own sake. "Seeing as there seem to be so many different possibilities."
"So, who?" Alanna repeated, impatiently. Wyldon cocked an eyebrow, interested in spite of himself.
The Knight Commander leaned back comfortably in his chair. "Well, while she was my squire, she was seeing that fellow . . . What's his name? Kennan?"
Surprise broke through Wyldon composed facade. "Cleon of Kennan?"
"Yes, that's right," Raoul replied, clearly enjoying the former training master's surprise.
"Great Mithros," Wyldon murmured. "And all this time, I thought she'd end up with Queenscove."
"Queenscove?" It was Alanna's turn to be surprised.
Wyldon rolled his eyes. "Yes, Queencove. I believe he was your squire?"
"I know who Queenscove is, Wyldon," Alanna replied, the words sounding like Scanran because they emerged through her gritted teeth. "I was merely expressing surprise."
"But why?" Raoul asked. "He was her page-sponsor and her best friend, after all."
"Yes, but he's become infatuated with that Yamani lady, Yukimi," the lady knight explained.
"So it is Kennan after all," Wyldon observed. "I certainly did not forsee that."
"Excuse me, my lord, but you're wrong," a new voice interrupted.
Wyldon blinked down at his squire. "You said something, Jesslaw?" he inquired, his voice colder than the Copper Isles in January.
The squire's normally ruddy cheeks were pale, but he bravely held his ground. "Yes, sir."
"I don't recall asking for your opinion, squire," Wyldon snapped.
"Let the boy speak, Wyldon," Raoul protested, curiousity filling his dark eyes.
"Yes, Wyldon, simply because you're embarrassed to be caught gossipping . . ." the Lioness added.
Wyldon glared at both of them impartially. "Very well, then. If you will encourage my squire in bad habits, Goldenlake, I can do nothing."
Alanna rolled her eyes, while Raoul leaned towards Owen in a conspiratorial whisper. "He just won't admit that he wants to know as well."
Own nodded, unsuccessfully trying to hide his own grin. "Yes, sir, I know," he replied.
"Excuse me, Goldenlake, but I am not interested!" Wyldon sounded outraged.
Lady Alanna stood up, mischief dancing in her amythest eyes. "Very well, then. Raoul, Owen, follow me."
Wyldon frowned. "Where exactly are you going?"
"Well, as you claim no interest, we wouldn't want to bore you to death," the lady knight said sweetly. "We'll just go outside then."
"That's quite all right, Lady Alanna," Wyldon informed her. "Anything my squire has to say can be said in front of me."
The lady knight stared at him for a moment, then grinned. "Goddess, Wyldon, you're impossible."
Wyldon's lips twitched. "I try. Jesslaw?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Well?"
Owen was completely straight faced. "Well what, sir?"
The squire and knight master engaged in a staring contest. After several minutes, Alanna grew tired of waiting. "Wyldon, you blinked!" she called out.
The Lord of Cavall turned indignantly to her. "I did not-" he began, before he realized that Alanna had tricked him. Abandoning his stone facade, he swore softly.
The three adults waited impatiently as Owen conducted a victory dance. "Jesslaw . . ." his knight-master warned.
"Dom," Owen replied cheerfully.
Wyldon blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, wondering if the word was a new type of slang.
"Dom," Owen repeated, looking annoyed.
Raoul leaned forward, in some confusion. "Excuse me, Squire Owen, but I could have sworn you said 'Dom'."
"That would be because I did, milord," Owen drawled.
"Jesslaw!" Wyldon snapped. "You will give a proper amount of respect to my guests, please."
"Oh, are we your guests, Wyldon?" Alanna asked in interest. "Does that mean you're paying for this meal?"
Raoul paid no attention as his two companions began to bicker over the bill. "Owen, do you mean Domitan of Masbolle?"
"Yes, a sergeant in the Third Company of the King's Own," the squire recited. When Raoul raised his eyebrows, Owen explained, "Kel talks about him a lot."
Raoul leant back, satisfied. "I see. But what makes you think she . . ." he trailed off, unsure how to phrase his question.
Owen answered it for him. "Whenever anyone says his name, she acts like one of my sisters." His childish disgust of the last word was evident in his voice.
"I see," Raoul grinned.
"What's all this, Raoul?" Wyldon interrupted, ignoring Alanna. "Who is this 'Dom'?"
The Lioness' interest was captured. "Raoul, do you mean Domitan of Masbolle?"
"Yes. How do you know of him?"
"He was the cousin of my squire," Alanna pointed out. "I met him a few times. Rather good looking, isn't he?"
Raoul coughed. "You'd be a better judge of that than me, Lioness," he demurred. The lady knight grinned.
Annoyance overflowed from Lord Wyldon's bearing. "Would someone please inform me who in Mithros' name this Dom is?" he demanded, clearly enough to be heard in Scanra.
Alanna smiled sweetly. "But I thought you weren't interested, Cavall."
As Wyldon seemed likely to explode, Owen took pity on his knight master, more to save his squiredom than anything else. But the normally talkative Owen failed at attempting to describe someone whom he barely knew. "Um, he's . . . he's . . . he's right there!"
"Well, speak of the devil," Raoul murmured. They stared in surprise at a tall, dark haired- and extremely handsome- man approaching them.
He quirked an eyebrow at the stares he was receiving. "Is anything wrong with them, milord?" He asked Lord Raoul. "Or are they merely struck dumb by my good looks and obvious wit and charm?"
"I'd say the latter, Dom," the Knight Commander smiled.
Dom grinned. "I came to tell you that you've been summoned by Commander Buriram. I don't think you want to keep her waiting."
"Mithros, no!" Raoul sighed. "Well, thank you for dinner, Cavall. It's been an unexpected pleasure." Wyldon looked unsure whether to be pleased or insulted.
Alanna rose with him, still studying Dom critically, as if trying to determine whether he was good enough for her successor. Apparently satisfied, she nodded. "I'd better go as well. George will be waiting."
Owen stared after the two knights, wondering at their hurry to leave. He understood, however, after his knight master swore deeply.
"What is it, milord?" he asked.
His normally calm knight master was furious. "They left me the bill!"
~*~
El Fin
~*~